


Naiad

by zetsubonna



Series: Coffee? Tea? Me? [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, The Author is Terrified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie is thirsty, so Peggy soaks herself in water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naiad

It was always an act of courage, Angie knew. She was very proud of any move she made first. There were times, though, when she wished she was a little less forward and a bit more of a lady, at least where this sort of thing was concerned.

Inviting Peggy to live with her in the Griffith had been subtle. Maybe, Angie was thinking now, too subtle. They’d gotten pretty close, she thought, until it turned out Peg was a spy, and Dot was maybe an assassin, and it all sounded, if Angie was honest with herself, a little rich for her blood, like maybe she wasn’t up to it after all, but, on the other hand, a spy would be really, really good at sneaking, wouldn’t she?

“I’m sure I’m taking forever,” Peggy said, her voice muffled by the drone of the showerhead and the glass of the door. “Did you need something?”

“I’m going to brush my teeth,” Angie explained, chickening out at the last possible moment. “Your showers always take this long, English?”

“Only on long days,” Peggy sighed, turning her face up toward the water. Her hair was even prettier wet, Angie noted, imagining her own hands in it.

She forced herself to turn, to actually go through the motions of putting paste on bristles and in her mouth, but she could see Peggy combing cream rinse through her dark, thick hair in the mirror, and Angie wanted to open the glass door and step in with her and kiss the water off her perfect shoulders and map over those soft, round hips with her mouth and-

Peggy turned the water off, and Angie rolled her eyes at herself before spitting into the sink.

* * *

“I just feel like I have the worst nose for it,” Angie complained to Joanna. “You ever have that problem?”

“I don’t never assume a fella is into me,” Joanna replied, scrubbing rouge onto her cheek in the ladies’ room mirror. “I figure, if he’s interested, he’ll say so.”

“It’s the year of the Lord nineteen-damn-forty-six,” Angie huffed. “I don’t see any point in standing around waiting to be asked if I feel like dancing.”

“So ask,” Joanna challenged her. “You’re smart, you’re pretty, and whether or not you can smell it, you got a cute little nose. Who’s gonna tell you no?”

Angie parted her scowl to paint her lips red. “Only a damn fool.”

* * *

At least at the Griffith, Angie could hide in plain sight. Not that she took any chances while she was there. She liked it, though, the atmosphere, all girls everywhere. She’d sort of wanted it that way. She wasn’t sure whether or not she liked fellas, and in her business, it was real easy to get real sick of them real quick, with their sly smiles and wandering hands and insinuations. Plenty of waitresses on other shifts found themselves sweethearts while pouring endless coffee and serving a hundred slices of pie a day.

Angie’s favorite regular just happened to be the pretty brunette lady with the accent, and the idea of her sleeping next door made her stomach all warm and fluttery. Just a wall and some blankets between them, and it was real plain that English didn’t have a whole lot of friends. She deserved someone who’d listen. The Griffith would suit her. And there’d be Angie, right down the hall.

* * *

 

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Peggy asked as Angie stood in the doorway.

“I’m not complaining. Take your time. Anyway, I know I can’t ask about the specifics,” Angie said, going right to the sink this time, using the mirror to watch Peggy rubbing a soapy washcloth under her breasts. “But are you sure all these late nights aren’t wearing you out?”

“I’m all right,” Peggy assured her, and Angie wondered if her eyes were closed as she helped guide the water to the soap, or if her lashes were just that thick. Peggy’s fingers dented her skin, and Angie wondered if she was anywhere near as soft as she looked.

Angie wasn’t sure if she wanted to bless Howard Stark for his perverse glass shower stall, or kick him in the shins. Peggy would probably have assured her that either course was correct.

“I brought you a snack,” Angie said, before sipping her water and rinsing out her mouth. “Lemon custard pie. It’s in the icebox. Want me to make you some tea?”

“Please? Honestly, you’re lovely,” Peggy said. “You’re the sweetest woman on Earth.”

Angie was pretty sure Peggy would taste a whole lot better than lemon custard pie, but she kept that to herself.

* * *

Angie sighed. Pining, she was pretty sure, was useless and possibly ridiculous. She was far too close to thirty to be peeking into a shower like a kid at school.

“Angie?” Peggy called, and Angie rolled her eyes heavenward and closed the door behind her. That shower stall did not leave nearly enough to the imagination. Would it have been too much for Stark to have at least gotten smoky glass?

“Yeah, English,” Angie said. “Late night for you, too?”

Peggy’s response wasn’t immediate, and Angie had the toothbrush in her mouth before she straightened up and saw it in the mirror- the door, open, and Peggy leaning out, dripping on the rug, a stern expression on her face.

“Surely neither of us is thick,” she said.

Angie raised her eyebrows, holding the toothbrush between her teeth to keep from saying anything impulsive or stupid.

“Right,” Peggy said, squaring her shoulders. “Fine. There are other showers, you know. I have my own bath, in my room. Quite a lovely one. Garden tub, even. This is Howard Stark’s bloody _mansion_ , there are three washrooms on the first floor _alone_. Why do I keep ending up in yours?”

Angie slowly extracted the toothbrush from her mouth.

“I did wonder, sure,” she admitted. “Kinda like I’m sure you wondered why I always need to brush my teeth while you’re in there.”

“Neither of us are particularly subtle,” Peggy said, sniffing, opening the door wider. She tilted her head to the side, and Angie was reminded of nothing more than one of those sirens from that production she’d managed to be an extra in, the cheap take on The Odyssey. “Are you going to take off your night dress and join me, or am I going to haul you in here still wearing it?”

“Let’s go with the first one,” she said, dropping her toothbrush in the sink and reaching for her hem. “I don’t want to have to explain why it needs drying but not washing.”

“About damned time,” Peggy said, snagging Angie’s wrist as soon as she was in reach, grinning when Angie squawked and stumbled into Peggy’s arms. “Now, let’s get those pins out of your hair.”

Both of Angie’s hands went straight to Peggy’s ass, and she got her own smirk out of it when Peggy startled halfway to kissing her.

“You know your own figure too well to be surprised,” Angie said, narrowing her eyes.

“I can’t actually see myself from behind,” came Peggy’s amused protest.

“I can,” Angie said, giving the aforementioned a firm squeeze. “You don’t have a bad angle.”

“Thank you,” Peggy said, pulling Angie closer by the waist, then kissing her, softly at first, but quickly getting aggressive when Angie’s tongue pushed past her lips, dropping her weight until Angie was pinned against the shower’s dark, tiled wall.

Angie pulled her hands back in a slow scrape, sucking Peggy’s bottom lip into her mouth and wondering if her nails were leaving marks on Peggy’s perfect, round ass. She wasn’t quite as soft as she looked, there was more muscle and firmness to her than Angie had figured, but it was nice, she liked it, it made sense. Peggy’s stomach had give to it, though, and it felt amazing against her own, as did Peggy’s breasts when she pulled Angie even closer, tugging up one of her thighs to go over Peggy’s hip.

“Strong, huh?” Angie asked against her mouth, letting Peggy support most of her weight.

“Tongue,” Peggy said, and Angie shut up and gave the woman what she wanted. Then Angie sucked and kissed down the side of Peggy’s neck, sinking her teeth into the skin just before her shoulder, which made Peggy moan, loud, so loud it that wasn’t surprising when Peggy’s nails bit into Angie’s thigh and Peggy’s hips shuddered forward.

Angie hummed quizzically as she pushed her tongue against Peggy’s skin where it was trapped between her teeth.

“Seem to know precisely what you’re doing,” Peggy said.

“Been planning it out for a while,” Angie said, rolling one shoulder back casually before sliding her thigh down from Peggy’s grip so she could lean down and suck one of Peggy’s nipples into her mouth.

Peggy’s hands shook as she fought the pins from Angie’s hair until she could wind it around her fist and pull Angie’s mouth more firmly against her breast. Taking the hint, Angie sucked harder, then opened her mouth to fit more of Peggy’s smooth, warm, wet skin into it, not letting herself be daunted when the gesture was off-centered and resulted in a noisy slurp. Peggy gasped, and Angie took a chance and cupped Peggy’s other breast in her hand, catching Peggy’s nipple between Angie’s thumb and the side of her palm, caressing it firmly until she felt it go tight and hard. Angie let the nipple in her mouth go and nuzzled the one framed by her fingers, and Peggy watched Angie’s mouth through thick lashes stuck together with water and steam.

“How far down were you planning to go?” Peggy asked.

“You got me by the hair,” Angie said. “Figure I can get to about the end of your arm, can’t I?”

“Clever,” Peggy observed, relaxing her shoulders against the wall as Angie’s grin broke into a soft, persistent tonguing of Peggy’s nipples. Angie was careful to check Peggy’s blissful expression just often enough not to need steering, her hands drifting back down until she could squeeze and stroke Peggy’s hips and thighs. Angie kissed her way down Peggy’s chest and over her supple, rounded belly, nibbling at Peggy’s navel and marveling at how dipping her tongue into it made Peggy’s feet slide and her thighs part.

Angie slid her hand up the inside of Peggy’s left thigh, glancing up at her face, at the way Peggy’s wrist was crooked to give her just enough room to move, less if Peggy tightened her grip on Angie’s wavy, tangled hair. Her pubic hair was soft and curled gently under Angie’s fingers, slipping apart easily when Angie adjusted her touch until Peggy’s head thunked back against the tiles and she moaned.

“Mm, been thinking about me long?” Angie asked.

Peggy’s grip adjusted right against her scalp.

“What would you suppose?” Peggy asked, and the way she looked under her wet, dark, subtly curling hair made Angie sink the rest of the way to her knees. “Slipped right in, didn’t you?”

Angie couldn’t help but grin at that, drawing her hand back, then gently thrusting her fingers in again, all but closing her eyes as she leaned in and darted her tongue through Peggy’s damp, carefully trimmed curls, making a low, appreciative noise when Peggy moved up higher on the balls of her feet and made it easier.

Angie sighed. Peggy was warm, sweet, and slippery inside and out. Every squirm, wriggle, and squeeze on Angie’s fingers matched up with a frantic little tug of Angie’s hair, just rough enough to make her scalp tingle. Angie trapped Peggy’s clit between her lips, rubbing it with her tongue, and Peggy’s quiet moans broke into a throaty growl as Peggy went tight on Angie’s fingers and pulled Angie even closer, rolling her hips toward Angie’s mouth. Angie sucked harder, pressing her lips together, and dropped her left hand between her own thighs to rub herself as Peggy trembled and slowly fell apart on her tongue.

* * *

“Do you do this by yourself?” Angie asked, grinning and opening her mouth for Peggy’s fork.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Peggy asked, leaning forward and licking pie filling from Angie’s lower lip. “Mister Jarvis’s brownies are perfect for two o’clock in your underthings.”

“I was wondering where they kept going,” Angie said, narrowing her eyes and giving one of Peggy’s nipples a light pinch, giggling when she jumped. “He gives us that stuff to share, y’know.”

“Don’t you dare,” Peggy countered, poking Angie’s stomach. “I saw lipstick on the milk bottle, and it was far too pink to be mine.”

“I was in a hurry,” Angie protested, trying to squirm past Peggy and grab at the tray on the side table.

“Too much of a hurry for a glass?” Peggy held the tray out of reach, using Angie’s prone position to smack her backside. “And here I thought I was sharing a house with a grown woman.”

“Mm!” Angie hugged Peggy’s waist. “This dame who gets cookie crumbs in the bed is lecturing me about manners?”

“There wouldn’t be crumbs in the bed if you wouldn’t giggle when I’m trying to feed you,” Peggy said, stroking Angie’s hair. “I never get crumbs when I’m by myself.”

“Better get used to itching,” Angie advised. “Mm, gimme a strawberry, would you, English? And try not to get the cream on my tits this time.”

“That was intentional,” Peggy informed her. “If a bit sticky.”

“Uh huh,” Angie said, grinning and rolling over on her back across Peggy’s lap. “Whatever you say, oopsy daisy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment gently, I've never written f/f on my own before and I am incredibly nervous.


End file.
